The night after the day
by M E Wofford
Summary: Tony and Ziva the night after learning their fate from Vance in JUDGEMENT DAY.


I couldn't get how angry and hurt Tony was out of my head at the end of JUDGMENT DAY. Also a dear young lady wanted me to do some TIVA fluff. Well, it's TIVA but it sure ain't fluff. Hope you like it, birthday girl!

**This story contains a scene of somewhat violent sex thus its M rating**.

_Ahuvi sheli_ is Hebrew for "my love" (said by a woman to a man). Or so says the internet site I went to.

**The night after the day**…

Tony was drunk. So very drunk and yet he could remember everything. He remembered that he had to fly to San Diego tomorrow. He remembered the look on Ziva's face when she found out she was going back to Israel. He remembered the touch of Jenny's neck, the flesh cooling but still warm, warm as life and there might not be enough booze in the world to make him forget the sight of her lying in a pool of her own blood, eyes open and staring.

Shit. He threw the empty vodka bottle out his car window as he wove down the street, hearing the smashing glass as he drove away. Two o'clock in the morning and he had to be on a plane at 10 and he only wanted to rip that bastard Vance's head off. Screw the packing. How could Vance do that? How could he break up Gibbs' team? Yeah, send him, Tony, away. Punish him. He's the one who let everybody down but leave the rest. Leave Gibbs with McGee and Ziva.

He pulled over bouncing off the curb. He couldn't drive anymore. He needed to stop. But he needed to move. He got out of the car and slammed the door. Then he kicked it. Then he kicked it again. Then he yelled his frustration. DAMMIT!

He started walking. It took a few minutes before he noticed where he was. Hell, he was only a couple of blocks from Ziva's place. There was the coffee shop she used. There was the pizza place they'd been to a few times. Now he had somewhere to go.

# # #

Ziva wasn't asleep. After they'd all gone their separate ways, in shocked silence, barely speaking to each other, she'd come home. She came home and sat and stared at the wall in her bedroom, holding a pillow cuddled up to her. After a while, maybe a long while, tears started crawling down her cheeks. She wasn't sure who she was crying for…herself, Jenny, Gibbs, Tim, Tony, even Abby and Ducky. For all of them. For none of them. She couldn't make her mind wrap around the fact that it had all come to an end.

Finally the tears stopped and she had gotten up and run a bath, sitting in it until the water turned cold. She got out and looked at herself. She didn't really look different except her eyes were red and swollen. But she felt different. Different from the Ziva who had ridden around L.A. a few days ago with Tony in a red Mustang convertible with white racing stripes that could go from 0 to 60 in 5.6 seconds. This new Ziva was the Ziva who had lost everything that meant anything to her today.

She went into her bedroom and pulled on a robe. She wasn't sleepy. Maybe she could read. She got a glass of wine from her kitchen and went to the bookshelf, looking for a book that suited her mood, if she had such a thing. Les Miserables maybe.

A loud knocking on the door startled her. She glanced at the clock, a little after 2. She started for the gun hidden in the bookcase then she heard Tony.

"Hey, Ziva. HEY, ZIVA! Let me in, okay. C'mon, Ziva, I know you're in there."

He sounded drunk. She cried in private why couldn't Tony drink himself into a drunken mess? She wondered what Tim and Abby were doing? She wondered what Gibbs was doing? They all handled the heart break in their own ways.

She went to the door and opened it and Tony fell in on her, draping his arms over her shoulders. He smelled sour and she wrinkled her nose.

"Hey, Ziva, how's it going? Ah, what's this, wine?"

He took the glass from her and downed it, then threw it against the wall.

"I had to get drunk, Ziva. Get so drunk I couldn't kill that fucker Vance. You know?"  
She put one of his arms over her shoulders and helped him to the couch, letting him fall onto it.

"I know Tony. Here, sit down."

Tony leaned back and smiled at her lopsidedly. He was definitely a very drunk man.

"You know what, Zee-vah, you are one beautiful woman. Did I ever tell you that? You are. I shoulda told you. Beautiful and hot and deadly and if I had ever touched you Gibbs would have had my balls nailed to the front of his boat."

Ziva smiled sadly. He was so drunk he didn't know what he was saying. She'd make him some coffee and then take him home and help him pack.

As she turned to leave he grabbed her hand.

"I'm sorry, Ziva. It's my fault you have to go back, it's my fault. It's my fault Jenny's dead; it's my fault Tim has to move over to Geek World. It's my fault Gibbs has got nobody again. It's all my fault."

He let go of her hand as he started crying, great racking sobs that shook his body.

She sat down beside him and held him to her, feeling his tears wet the shoulder of her robe.

"Tony, Tony, _ahuvi sheli_. Don't do this. It's not your fault. It is not your fault. Jenny made her choices. You heard what Ducky told us. She was dying. She chose to end her life in another way. Please Tony."

She held his face up and he looked at her. His wet lashes spiking around his eyes, his face red from emotion and liquor. She gently kissed his forehead and then his mouth. Holding it for just a moment. She had so wanted to kiss him all this time and never had, not really. This might be her last chance. She drew back and looked at him again. He looked at her steadily.

Then he reached out and put his arms around her. He pulled her to him roughly, hurting her. He pushed her down on the couch and began kissing her. Hard, bruising kisses. Hurting her mouth. Holding her head so she couldn't move it away. She felt his hand on her breast. Grabbing and twisting. He pushed her robe aside and reached between her legs.

"Tony, what are you doing? Stop it!"

"Please Ziva. Don't stop me…please, Ziva. I need you."

She tried to push him away but he was too strong. She could stop him yes, but she'd have to hurt him and he'd been hurt enough the past few days. She couldn't bring herself to do him more harm. She tried to lift his upper body off her.

"Tony, stop. Stop…"

He put his lips on hers again forcing his tongue into her mouth. She heard the sound of his zipper and then he was forcing her legs wide and thrusting into her. It hurt and she whimpered into his kiss. She wasn't ready as he began to move inside her. He broke his kiss and pulled his head back. She saw tears running down his face.

She realized now what he was doing, letting all his pain and anger and frustration out, using her. For one moment she too was angry. How dare he? Then she realized – it was something he could have done with no one else. Oh, he could have gotten in to a fight and worked out the emotions with violence or picked up some hooker and had violent sex but Ziva was his partner and had shared his life for the last 3 years. Shared the experience of losing the director and finding her dead, shared knowing they'd failed in their assignment and now their lives were irretrievably changed. She was who he needed to share it with. And maybe she needed to share it with him as well.

She relaxed her body and put her arms around him and held him as he finished.

**The morning after the day**…

Tony woke up with a headache and a mouth tasting like something had crawled inside and died. He lay face down on what? Not his soft bed but a hard scratchy surface. Slowly, hesitantly, he sat up and looked around. This wasn't his apartment. Where was he? God, his head hurt. He wiped his mouth. There was dried spit around it. He must have been drooling in his sleep. How appetizing, DiNozzo, he thought.

He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. This place was familiar. He looked around again. He tried to stand up, took him two tries but then he was on his feet. He grabbed his pants just as they slipped past his hips. His belt was undone and his zipper down. He readjusted things and rebuttoned his shirt too just to be sure. What the hell had he been doing? He saw a picture on a bookshelf across the room, walked toward it and as he drew close enough he realized it was a picture of the team with Jenny. He closed his eyes. Jenny. Dead. His fault.

Now he knew where he was. Ziva's place. He'd been here many times for movie nights, suppers, to pick her up for a ride to work. What was he doing at Ziva's? He saw a glass of water with two pills lying next to it on the end table by the couch and figured they were for him, so he walked over and took them. At this point he'd take anything to stop his head pain. It made his head hurt worse to swallow. He had really tied one on. He didn't think it had helped at all.

Suddenly, he remembered what he was doing today. He was flying out to San Diego. To the U.S.S. Ronald Reagan. Special Agent Afloat Tony DiNozzo. If he had been in his own apartment he might have hit the wall and broken his knuckles but Ziva wouldn't be happy if he broke anything in her place. She would probably want her deposit back when she left to return to Israel.

Oh yeah. That's right. He wasn't the only one leaving. Ziva was leaving. Going away. Out of his life. He might never see her again. The thought brought him up short. He didn't really think he could handle that right now. He couldn't think that thought. Not now. Speaking of Ziva where was she? He realized his mind was out of control, flying from subject to subject, worse than Abby after 6 Caf-Pows. He didn't give a damn.

He heard the water running and followed the sound into Ziva's kitchen. She had her back to him. She wore jeans and a dark green hoodie. Her hair was down. He could see it reached halfway down to her butt. She really had beautiful hair.

He cleared his throat, "Ziva."

She stayed turned away from him.

"There is coffee and toast, Tony. I didn't think you could handle anything else right now. Did you take the aspirin?"

"Yeah, and drank all the water. Listen, I'm sorry I showed up here last night. Was I a big asshole? I was out driving and…"

He noticed she had stiffened up when he had asked her about what he had done. Uh oh, that couldn't be good. Damn, DiNozzo, good one. Make her last memory of you be so crappy she won't even send you a postcard from Tel Aviv. Can't you do one single little thing right anymore?

He crossed over to her and touched her shoulder. She jerked away. He felt helpless.

"Look, Ziva, I don't know what I did but I'm sorry. Would you at least look at me?"

She slowly turned toward him, refusing to look up at his face. He put his hand under her chin and lifted. Her dark eyes looked at him steadily but he could tell it was costing her a lot to do so. And there were a couple of bruises on the side of her face near her mouth.

Suddenly he remembered this too. Ziva under him, pushing up at him, trying to get free. Him holding her down, holding her face, kissing her. Her body naked underneath his, squirming and then he had…

He dropped his hand and backed away. Oh my god, what had he done? He bumped into the little table she kept in the kitchen and turned away from her. This was the worst thing he had ever done. Worse than betraying Jeanne. Worse than letting Jenny die alone. Worse than anything he could imagine. Why didn't she just shoot him? That would have been better.

Oh Jesus. He covered his face with his hands. They were shaking. How could he?

Then she touched his back gently.

"Tony, listen to me. Sit down, okay? Just sit down please and for once listen to me."

He let her guide him to one of the two chairs at the table and sat but refused to look at her. He heard her take a few steps and then a rattle of glassware and she returned with what smelled like a cup of coffee.

She reached up and took his hands from his face. Still holding his hands she knelt in front of him.

"Look at me," she said.

He did as she asked. If she could talk about it he could listen. It might kill him to hear it but hear it he would.

"Last night," she started and stopped. She started again.

"Last night you were hurt and angry and very drunk. You came here seeking comfort, I think. And I still believe that even though you never said as much. I tried to offer what I thought you needed but it soon became obvious you needed more."

She paused, swallowed hard and then went on.

"I will not pretend it was a pleasant experience or that I enjoyed it."

He jerked his hands away. She patiently recaptured them and leaned on his knees.

"But I am not hurt or injured in any way. I willingly endured what happened and tried to take as much of your pain away as I could. I would do as much again and more for you, Tony."

She rubbed his knuckles gently, looking down at his hands.

"I must admit it was not quite like I imagined our first time together would be."

She looked up, trying to smile but her eyes became blurred with tears and Tony pulled her to him, up on his lap, rocking her and himself back and forth. Their mingled pain and loss fueling the motion.

"I am so sorry, Ziva. I can't tell you how sorry I am. I can't ask you to forgive me. Why the hell didn't you shoot me or stab me or just fucking kill me? Anything so I wouldn't have this on my conscience as well as everything else. Oh, god, Ziva."

He crushed her to him. As tight as he could. Probably as tight as he had on the couch. His tears joined hers as he sat holding her, their heads and hands touching.

After a few minutes she sat up straighter where he held her and sniffed, rubbing her eyes with two hands like a little girl.

She said, "All of this emotion is bad for my image as a Mossad assassin."

He couldn't help it. He burst out laughing. It wasn't funny and yet it was. She joined him and they laughed, both having to hold onto the table as the laughter drained the strength from them, along with some other things they wanted to be done with…guilt, pain, frustration, fear, regrets. They laughed until they could laugh no more. Wheezing a little and wiping her eyes again, Ziva squeezed his hands and got up.

"Drink your coffee, Tony. You've got a plane to catch and if you didn't pack at least a bag to take with you we have to go by your place on the way to base. Plus you must shower."

She held her nose. He laughed again.

He stood up and took her in his arms again, resting his chin on top of her head. She put her arms around him.

"We will never speak of this again, Tony. I know you would never hurt me on purpose."

He tightened his arms around her.

"Okay, Ziva. Okay. I, I, uh…"

Voice muffled by his chest she said, "I know. Shhhhhh."

She moved away from him and turned off the coffee.

"Drink up, we have to go."

As they were walking out of the apartment, both silent, Ziva's cell phone rang. She took it out and looked at the caller ID window then showed it to Tony. It said "Gibbs."

Opening it, she said "yes." Then she listened intently for a minute or two. Then she closed the phone.

She looked at Tony and gave him a smile; a true, happy Ziva smile.

"He said he knew you would be here. How I do not know. He had a message for us both. Go to the new assignment Tony. I am to report to the Israeli Embassy for the time being. He has already worked it out with Michael Bashan of Mossad. He said he will be in touch with both of us shortly. Not to give up. That he will have his team back. Semper Fi is the operation code name."

Tony smiled too. He had just felt a 1000-pound weight lifted from his shoulders. He grabbed her and swung her around the room making her feet leave the floor. Then he stopped and had to lean against the door.

"Uh, I probably shouldn't do that when I'm hung over. Move back, I might hurl."

Ziva quickly stepped back, watching Tony cautiously.

He stood up straighter.

"Nope, false alarm. I'm okay now."

He smiled at Ziva. She still looked worried.

"I really am okay, at least right now."

He meant it on so many more levels than a simple physical reaction to too much booze and emotion and twirling around like a kid. Was all this pain part of growing up? He hated it. He hated that he had hurt her too.

She must have seen something in his eyes because she reached up and kissed his cheek.

"I know you are and so am I, Tony."

As they walked down the steps to Ziva's car Tony turned and stopped her, staring at her seriously then he took her in his arms, hugging her in close.

"When I get back in town, Ziva, we're going to have to have a long, serious talk, maybe over a beer or a glass of wine though. No more hard liquor for me."

"I will await our talk with great anticipation."

"You're talking like McGeek again."

He held her hand as they walked the rest of the way to the car and even after she started driving he kept holding it proving that he hadn't totally lost his nerve but that his common sense was absolutely long gone.

Author's Note

I hope you enjoyed my take on what might happen. I hope no one is too upset by the story.


End file.
